


The Bounty Hunter

by Smosh_Fanfics (KateBlack)



Category: Smosh
Genre: AU, Assassin - Freeform, Badass Women, Bounty Hunter, Bozari, Death, F/F, F/M, Mari Being A badass bitch, Mitz - Freeform, Smosh AU, Smosh Summer Games Wild West, Wild West, Wild West AU, gunman, hired killer, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateBlack/pseuds/Smosh_Fanfics
Summary: Mari’s doing well for herself. She has a new partner, her pockets are full of gold, and her town’s sheriff is none the wiser about her profession as a hired bounty hunter. Her future is looking good.But when someone hires her to kill an old friend, Mari learns that she can’t run from the ghosts of her past. Not for long.





	1. •One•

I drummed my fingers on the table. The Saloon was alive with sound, both from the piano and from the people inside it. Laughter, conversation, flirtation with saloon girls, and soon, if everything went to plan, gunshots.

I surveyed the man sitting in front of me. The most wanted man in the west, who had fooled most people looking for him by cutting off his beard and shaving his head. Not me, though. Today, the Buffulo, whose birth name was Matt Raub, would meet his maker. All I'd have to do is bring his body to this town's sheriff, and I'd get that sweet, sweet bounty I'd been dreaming of for the past two months.

"Two eagles," The man sitting to my right said, sliding the money forwards. I had a royal flush, the best hand you could get.

"Five," I countered, taking the money out of my pocket and putting it on the desk.

"Ten," Matt countered, staring straight at me. I stared back.

"Fifteen."

"I fold," The man to my right said, laying down his hand, which was a measly triplets. The man to my left followed suit, him with a full.

"Twenty," Matt countered.

"Twenty," I took the money out of my pocket, and we both laid down our hands. He had a full.

I swept the money off the desk and into my coin pouch with a smile, hoping to get him riled up. I hoped he would pull his gun right there, giving me an easy excuse to riddle him full of bullets. Unfortunately, he just smiled.

"Lucky," He chuckled.

We played a few more rounds, with me winning almost every time. I wasn't cheating; I was just a really good bluffer, which caused people who had better hands than me to fold. The skill comes with my profession.

As the night wore on, people started to leave. Eventually, the Saloon was practically deserted, and the two other men we'd been playing with left. You can't play with only two people, so a saloon girl took our cards away. Neither of us got up.

"You're a good bluffer," Matt chuckled. "Too bad there aren't any men left to help you keep your winnings."

I flipped the table onto him before he pulled out his gun. He screamed in rage, and I pulled out my gun while taking a step back from him. I flipped over another table and ducked behind it just in time, as he started shooting. The bartender was hiding under the counter, while the saloon girls were shrieking and running to their rooms. Except for one girl, who was watching from the balcony leading to the rooms, a bottle of beer in her hand. I'd seen many things during gunfights, but I'd never seen that.

I didn't have much time to think about her, as I was in the middle of a gunfight. I popped up from behind the desk and started shooting, and he barely ducked behind his in time. I ducked back down, my heart pounding. I hadn't done this for too long.

I heard him move, and I popped up. I took a few shots. I missed his head, but shot his gun straight out of his hands. He ducked back down, and I reloaded my gun and sprang up, not about to miss my opportunity.

He kicked the table forwards, and it crashed into me. My gun went flying, and then he was on top of me, his hands around my throat. I thrashed around beneath him, trying to claw his hands off my throat, to get him off of me. But he was heavy, and strong, and had the advantage. I couldn't reach the knife in my boots, and I started to feel lightheaded as I ran out of oxygen.

_Bang._

A bullet flew straight through his head and embedded in the floorboard above me. His grip loosened, and he crumpled. I pushed him off me and lurched forwards, gasping for breath.

I looked up to see who had saved me, and saw the Saloon Girl who had been watching us, my gun in one hand and her bottle of beer in the other. She was pretty, with long brown hair and light brown skin. She had a mischievous smile on her face.

"You're welcome," She said before she took another chug of her beer.

**~Two Weeks Later~**

The sun beat down on us as we rode.

Boze rode ahead of me, on her black horse. She had her hair done in a braid, which was draped over her shoulder, and was wearing jeans and a top that showed off her midriff. I always watched her as we rode; I didn't trust my new partner. I couldn't help but feel paranoid, and every time she slightly moved her hand, I reached for my gun. I'd seen that girl shoot, and I didn't want to be at the receiving end of her bullet.

I've ridden down this road many times before, and would many more times. It led to the town I had grown up in; Deadwood. I hadn't been there for over two months, ever since I put my eye on tracking down Matt Raub. I still remembered my last conversation with Matt, when he had told me I'd finally lost it. I couldn't wait to shove my thousand-eagle bounty in his face.

Boze and I rode in silence. We always did. There wasn't much to talk about; neither of us knew anything about each other, and we both liked it that way. The only thing I knew about her was that she was here for the money. Then again, I could say the same thing myself; but it wasn't the full truth. Not really.

"I've heard of Deadwood," she said, surprising me. She didn't turn her head to look at me. "Is it really as big as everyone says it is?"

"Bigger," I replied. She laughed.

"Must've been nice, growing up in a large town," She stated.

"I'm sure it is for most people," I replied. "But not for me."

She didn't press any further.

Deadwood was one of the biggest towns in the west, and was still growing. Thanks to the large gold mines and lawlessness of my hometown, it attracted lots of people. My parents had come for the gold, as my father had been a miner. But the only thing my family had gained from the mines was his corpse.

We rode in silence, until Deadwood came into vision. We rode into the town.

People recognized me, but they still stared. I was an oddity to them; most powerful women around here were prostitutes and the wives of wealthy men; not many of them were powerful like men were. I was an exception from that, and now that I had Boze with me, I got twice as many stares. Conversations would stop as I rode past, and mothers would shield their daughter's eyes and hurry by me.

I could tell it made Boze uncomfortable. As a former prostitute, she was used to attention; but not this type of attention. But if she wanted to remain as my partner, she'd have to get used to it.

Eventually, we arrived at Matt's Saloon. It was exactly like I'd remembered it; the faded sign, the broken door, hanging on its hinges, that Matt was always too lazy to fix. It was the middle of the day, so the place was practically deserted, besides a few saloon girls chatting in a corner. Matt was behind the counter, washing glasses.

I plopped down on the seat in front of him and slammed some money on the counter. "I'd like to rent a room."

He looked up, and his face broke into a grin. I couldn't help but smile too, and we hugged over the counter.

"Mari!" He said joyfully. "It's been too long."

"Guess who caught the most wanted man in the west?" I asked him.

"Hmm," He said, pretending to think. "You?"

"One thousand eagles baby," I boasted. "Now, what was it you were saying last time I was here, about how I was a fool for trying to track him down?"

"Well, congratulations on proving me wrong," He chuckled. "Like you always do."

"You'd think you would have learned not to underestimate me by now," I smiled.

He started pouring me a beer. "Who's the girl?"

He nodded to the door, where Boze was entering. She had just finished tying up our horses.

"My new partner," I said before I downed the entire glass he'd just poured for me.

"I thought you swore to only work alone," He furrowed his eyebrows. "After what happened."

"I had a change of heart when she put a bullet through the head of a man who was about to kill me," I explained as he started pouring me another drink.

"Well, I hope it works out," He said. "I worry about you sometimes. Nice to know you'll be with someone."

"You don't have to," I told him as he grabbed a key off the wall behind him. "I can take care of myself."

"I know," He said as he handed it to me and took my money off the counter. I had included the price of the beers. "Doesn't stop me from worrying, though."

I stood up and walked over to Boze, who had been talking to the saloon girls. "Boze, I got our room."

She nodded and followed me to our horses, where we unpacked our stuff and carried it back inside, up the stairs, and into our room. Matt always gave me the same one, the one I had grown up in with my mother. No saloon girl lived here now, so he rented it out. It looked practically identical to how my mother had kept it.

I sat down on my old bed, and Boze took the other. I was exhausted, so I took off my gun holster and laid down. Boze followed suit, and pretty soon, we were both asleep.

• • •

I woke up to the sound of voices, and I looked out the window. Sure enough, it was nighttime, which was when most people came to Saloons. I looked over at Boze's bed, and saw that it was empty, which didn't surprise me. She was a social person, and loved talking to people. In every Saloon we stayed in on the way here, she'd always hang around and talk to people, along with gambling. It never bothered me, as she never bet too much money and always bet her own.

I got up groggily and strapped on my holster, before walking out onto the balcony overlooking the inside of the Saloon. Matt was going crazy, pouring people drinks, while people gambled, talked, and flirted with saloon girls. Someone was at the piano, playing a fast song.

I surveyed the scene, debating whether or not I should help Matt, who was currently talking to a blonde girl and guy, when someone walked in. I turned to look at them, and almost fell over in shock.

He looked less tired and much happier than I remembered him, but besides that, he looked exactly the same. The same short, brown hair. The same big, intimidating, muscular body. The same gun strapped to his waist as he had the day we met.

_Wes._

He looked up, and our eyes locked. His smile melted. I stared at him, my hand resting on my gun. We hadn't left on good terms.

He tore his gaze from mine and walked over to the counter. I watched him. I had hoped that he had stopped gambling, stopped doing drugs. That I had knocked some sense into him in our last conversation. But as I watched him walk over to a table where people were playing cards, I knew he hadn't.

I rushed outside, needing the air. I lit a cigarette, and breathed it in. He was the last person I wanted to see right now.

"Hey girl, you okay?"

I turned to see Boze, leaning against the doorway.

"I'm fine," I snapped. "Just needed some fresh air."

"If you say so," She sat down next to me. "Can I bum a cigarette?"

I passed her one, and the lighter. We enjoyed our cigarettes in silence, as I tried to think of anything but the man from my past who was gambling inside.


	2. •Two•

_"Now, Mari, you're going to have to be very quiet, okay honey?" My mom asked me, kneeling down in front of me. "Mommy has to have a very serious discussion, and you can't interrupt her, okay?"_

_"Okay, Mommy," I replied, not knowing what was going on. She smiled and kissed my forehead. I hugged my little stuffy made of rags close to my chest and picked up my small bag, filled with the few items I possessed._

_I followed her into the building. It was a large building, with tables, a piano, and a counter with bottles stacked on the shelves behind it. I cocked my head, taking it all in._

_"Stay here, okay sweety?" My mom asked me. "Don't move."_

_I nodded, and my mom walked up to the counter to talk to the man who was behind it, cleaning glasses. I leaned against the wall, sat down, and started to play with my stuffy. I could hear my mother's conversation with the man._

_"Please," She begged. "My husband's dead. My daughter and I have nowhere to go. My family is in Asia."_

_"And where will your daughter go when you're working?" The man asked._

_"She's a good girl, she can just sit outside, she won't move," My mother explained._

_"You'll have to pay the rent just like everyone else, and supply your own food," He explained. "I won't be doing you any favors."_

_"I know," My mother replied._

_I was too young to understand what they were saying, so I focused on my stuffy. I heard a noise, and looked at the table closest to me. To my shock, I saw a boy hiding under it, who looked to be about my age. Both of our eyes widened when we saw each other._

_"Honey, have you seen Matthew?" I looked back at my mother, and saw a third woman was there, talking to the man behind the counter. "He ran off and I can't find him."_

_I looked back a the boy. He brought a finger to his lips, and I looked back at the woman._

_"No, I haven't seen our son," The man spat. "It's your job to look after him, not mine."_  
  
The woman huffed angrily, and stormed out through a door behind the counter.

_"Thanks," The boy behind the table whispered._

_"No problem," I whispered back. "I'm Mari."_

_"Matthew," The boy whispered. "How old are you?"_

_"Five," I replied._

_"I'm five too!" Matthew whispered happily. "I've never met another five-year-old before. My mother never lets me talk to anyone."  
_

_"I think I might be moving in here," I whispered. "We could be friends!"_

_Matthew smiled. "I've never had a friend before. Well, besides my brother, but he doesn't really count. I'd love to be your friend!"_  
  
Before I could respond, my mother started walking back towards me. Not wanting to blow Matt's cover, I turned to look at her.

_"C'mon, Mari," She said, smiling a weak smile. "Pick up your stuff."_

_"Are we going to be living here?" I asked._

_"Yes," She replied, pointing to one of the doors behind the banisters on the second floor. "In one of those rooms."_

_I picked up my bag, and she picked up hers, and we started walking up the stairs. I waved to Matthew, and he waved back, just as his mother came inside and spotted him._

• • •

"Hey, are you okay?" Matthew asked me as I sat down in front of him. "I saw you leave last night."  
  
"I'm fine," I replied. "I just... saw someone. From my past."

"The one who isn't dead?" Matt asked as he poured me a drink.

"Yeah," I replied.

"Well, I have some good news," He whispered, though there wasn't anyone who could hear us. Boze was still asleep, and the saloon girls were nowhere to be seen. "Two blonde people came in last night and gave us a target. 500 eagles. Already paid 250 in advance."

I almost spit out my drink. "500 eagles? Who's the target, the sheriff?"  
  
"That's the strange part," Matt shrugged. "I've never even heard of him before. Should be easy."

"The name?" I asked impatiently.

"Oh, right," Matt chuckled. "Wesley Johnson."

I dropped my drink. It landed on the floor, and some of the glass jumped up and cut my leg. I barely felt it.

No. No, that's impossible. What are the odds that someone would give him too me as a target the day after I saw him after over two years of having no idea where he was? And what were the chances that someone would hire me to kill one of the two men I'd used to work with, over all the other hired killers in the west?

"Mari, what's wrong?" Matt asked.

"That's him," I replied frantically. "That's the one who isn't dead."

Matt's eyes widened as I quickly stood up and ran outside. I leaned against one of the posts holding up the second floor of the saloon, ignoring all the eyes on me and the blood running down my leg. I needed the fresh air.

This was bad. I had a sinking feeling that whoever hired me for this hit knew Wes and I knew each other, and if that was true, how much more did they know about me, about my past, about what I've done? I've easily committed enough crimes to end up on the hanging block. Then again, so has Wes.

I walked back inside, and back up to my room. Boze was still asleep, even though the sun had risen hours ago. I pulled the glass out of my leg and wrapped up the wound.

I could just book it. There were a few wanted signs outside the sheriff's office that looked promising. I could just go after one of them, forget this whole thing ever happened.

But they'd already given Matt half the money. If I left, they'd probably put a hole in his head. Which left me with only two choices; to put a bullet through whoever hired me's head, or put a bullet through Wes'.

• • •

"So, let me get this straight," Boze asked me, crossing her arms. She had just woken up, even though the sun had set by now. That was how Boze rolled; stay up all night, sleep all day. At least, that's what she did on days where we weren't traveling. "You're telling me that you're going to give up 500 eagles to spare the life of an easy target?"  
  
"I wouldn't call him an easy target," I replied.

"Still, I'm not going to let you do that," She huffed, leaning against the wall. "I'm your partner, I have equal say, and I say I want money."  
  
"Fine," I spun around to face her. "Give me a week to find out who wants him dead. They've already paid half in advance. If I kill them, you get 250 eagles. If I can't find them and have to kill Wes, you get 250 eagles. Either way, you get paid."  
  
We stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Her dark brown eyes pierced mine angrily, but I didn't relent. This was how all of our arguments went; half the time, we just stared at each other angrily.

"Fine," She replied. "Deal."

"Thank you," I replied, strapping my holster to my waist. "Now, I have an old friend to catch."

"What's your plan?" Boze asked.

"Wait for him to show up," I replied.

"You think he's going to come back here, when he knows you're here?" Boze asked.

"Yes," I replied. "I know he will."

I walked out of the room and leaned against the banister. It was nighttime, and the Saloon was packed. I scanned the crowd, hoping to see him. I didn't.

I stood there for half an hour, watching Matt work his ass off and Boze flirt with the saloon girls and their customers. _C'mon, Wes,_  I thought to myself.  _Show up._

A few minutes later, he did. Our eyes locked, and I started walking towards him. He waited for me, his hand resting on his gun. I didn't blame him. After all, he hadn't come out of our last conversation unharmed.

"Hello, Wes," I said. "Long time no see."

"Well, we did just see each other yesterday," He replied in a typical Wes fashion.

"Shut up," I snapped. "We need to talk."

He followed me outside, and leaned against one of the beams that couldn't be seen out the Saloon's window. I leaned against the wall opposite him. We stared at each other for awhile, neither of us really knowing what to say. After all, we hadn't left on the best terms. I wondered if he was still angry at me. 

"How have you been?" He asked, making me think he wasn't angry. At least, not very angry. He hadn't pulled his gun, so that was something.

"Good," I replied. "I'm not dead."

"I'm not either," He laughed. "I've... I've improved."

"Have you know?" I asked skeptically.

"I stopped doing drugs," He scratched his head. "Stopped gambling so much. Got married to a beutiful woman. I'm going to be a father."  
  
"Congratulations," I said. "So you've taken my advice to heart?"

"You could say that," He breathed. "You were definitely... assertive with your advice. The cut on my neck from the bottle is now a scar."

"Good," I replied. I meant it. Those few times I'd thought about Wes over the past two years, I'd always hoped he had sobered up, stopped his destructive lifestyle. It was the reason why I'd dropped him as a partner, after all. I kind of blamed myself for it, at times; maybe it was my fault, if he had recovered after I left.

"Okay, why are you talking to me?" He asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. "I know you, and I know you wanted to stay as far away from me as possible."

"Somebody wants you dead, Wes," I crossed my arms. "And they've hired me to do it."

He took a deep breath, and there was a long silence between us. "Then why aren't I dead?"

"I've decided to take pity on you," I replied. "You have a week to figure out who hired me. If you can't..."

"Then I'm dead," He guessed. I nodded. 

"I promised my partner," I shrugged.

"Will you help me?" He asked. "Or do I have to do it alone?"

"I'll help you," I replied. "Meet me here tomorrow at sunrise."

He nodded, and I walked back inside. Boze was waiting for me, leaning against the stairs.

"Why do you want to help him?" Boze asked. "He's your  _former_  partner. He must've done something wrong."

"He used to be my friend," I replied. "I'm not just going to put a bullet through his head."

"Why isn't he your friend anymore?" Boze asked. 

I shot her a look. "Since when have you cared so much about my past?"

"Since your _past_ started getting in the way of our job," She hissed. "You're Atomic, the best bounty hunter and paid killer in the west, according to rumors. They say you'll kill anyone for the right price. Whoever wants him dead is paying more than the right price, and yet you're not. Killing. Him. That's not the woman I became partners with."

I stared at her for awhile, and she stared right back. Despite being one of the shortest women I've met in my life, she looked terrifying when she was angry, and, in a strange way, beautiful.

"We've already talked about this, Boze," I hissed. "Don't forget our deal."

I turned and walked back to our room. I could feel her eyes on me as I did, and I could feel her anger. Boze had a bloodlust, and it had been awhile since she'd killed anyone. It was one of the things I liked about her; most of the time. I opened the door to our room and plopped down on my bed.

She was right, in a way. I should just kill him. It would save me a lot of trouble, and earn me a lot of money.

But I couldn't forget my past with him, all that time we'd spent together. He was my old friend, one of the only ones I had. He was the last person alive who had known Flitz. I couldn't kill him. Not without even trying to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have the time, please check out my wattpad account, @Smosh_Fanfics, and website, https://smoshfanfics.weebly.com/ .


	3. •Three•

_I watched as Matthew missed his tenth shot, the bullet embedding itself into the sand dune behind the rock we had balanced the bottle on._

_"C'mon, Matt," Jon laughed. "You haven't even grazed it!"_

_Matthew grimaced and aimed the rifle at the bottle. He pulled the trigger, and for the eleventh time, missed._

_Jon and I laughed as I took another bite of my cookie and Matt practically fumed in anger._

_"I'd like to see you do better," Matthew said angrily to me. I swallowed my cookie and was about to respond when Jon spoke._

_"She probably could," Jon smiled. "Do you want to give it a try, Mari?"_

_"Sure," I shrugged, standing up and shoving the cookie in my pocket. We were outside the town, and Jon was trying to show Matthew how to shoot, as their father wanted them both to know how too. Jon handed me the gun. "What will you give me if I get it?"_

_"Another one of my mother's cookies," Matthew bartered. I laughed; his mother made the best cookies. It was a running joke between the two of us; whenever we made a bet of any kind, he's always bet one of his mother's cookies. I had gotten the one I was currently eating by betting that he wouldn't be able to load the rifle back before we left._

_"Deal," I replied._

_I'd never held a gun before, yet it felt comfortable in my hands. I had seen enough people hold a rifle (mainly Matt's Dad when some people at the Saloon got too violent in a gambling match or with a girl) so I knew more or less how to hold one. I still listened to Jon's tips, though._

_I lined up the shot. The gun had a sight, which was helpful. I pulled the trigger, and managed to keep a hold on the rifle when it recoiled_

_The bottle shattered as my bullet ripped through the center of it. We all had to cover our faces with our hands, as the glass had flown everywhere. Luckily, none of us got cut._

_"Jesus Christ," Jon muttered in astonishment. "Have you ever shot a gun before?"_

_"No," I smiled. I felt exhilarated, and proud of myself. I was filled with the desire to shoot it again._

_"You're a natural," Jon smiled. "Unlike my brother."_

_Matt punched him on the arm._

• • •

I drummed my fingers on the table as I waited. Matthew and Boze were still asleep, so Wes and I would have some time alone. Every once in awhile, my eyes would wander to the picture on the wall over the piano. It was a picture of John, posing next to a rabbit he'd shot. I remembered the day that happened; it was a few weeks after that time he'd tried to teach Matt how to shoot, and failed miserably. And it was a few weeks before Jon contracted measles, which killed him at the young age of fourteen and led to his mother hanging herself. Jon had always been her favorite.

The sun had risen ten minutes ago, and I was struck with the thought that Wes might've skipped town, and felt stupid for not thinking of that possibility sooner. I cursed myself; I should've listened to Boze and just shot him. Because if I had to track that son of a bitch-

The door opened, and Wes walked in. He spotted me, and sat down in the chair opposite me.

"Sorry I'm late," He apologized. "I woke up my wife and had to wait for her to fall asleep."

"You could've just told her where you were going," I shrugged.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that would've gone along great. I can just imagine what I'd tell her.  _Honey! I'm going to go see the woman who was hired to kill me to try and figure out who wants me dead! I'll be home in time for dinner!_ "

I laughed.

"So, what information do you have on whoever wants me dead?" Wes asked.

"A blond man and woman hired the hit," I replied, remembering the quick conversation I'd had with Matt late last night, after Boze was asleep. "The man was shortish, muscular, had a short beard, and had light blue eyes. The woman was around 5"6, had long hair, and grey eyes. That's all I know."

"Nothing else?" Wes asked. "No names?"

"How the hell would I know their names?" I asked. "We both know how people hire hits."

Wes sighed and leaned back.

"So," I asked. "Who could they be? I can't think of anybody."

"We both know that no one would want me dead for the things I did with you," He frowned. "Have they been seen since?"

"No," I replied. "But they're probably still somewhere in Deadwood. I don't see why they'd leave."

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll be easy to find," Wes said sarcastically. "It's not like this is one of the biggest towns in the west or anything."

"I never said they would be easy to find," I crossed my arms.

"Do you have any ideas on how we could find them?" He asked.

"Well, we could make a list," I suggested. "Of everyone you've ever killed or stolen from."

"How would that help?" He asked.

"Might jog your memory," I shrugged. "At least I'm putting ideas out there, Wes!"

"You know I don't remember everyone's names," Wes sighed. "Because of the state I was in when I killed them."

"Yeah, I know you were high enough to see heaven for most of them," I scoffed. "Do you have any better ideas?"

Wes sighed in defeat. "Do you have any pieces of paper?"

• • •

By the time we were done, we had a list 50-names long, and those were just the ones he could remember. I couldn't imagine how he did it; I remembered the names of everyone I've killed, all 37 of them. Then again, Wes never killed like I did. He killed random people for drugs, money, or because they'd either cheated during a gambling game or caught him cheating.

By now, Matt was up, cleaning glasses like he always was. Boze was still asleep, like she always was.

My original plan hadn't worked; none of the names we had jotted down provided an easy answer. Wes really had no idea who it could be. We were now going down the list, thinking about who had the power and people who cared about them to have anyone go through the trouble of avenging them.

"Sabrina Moss was David Moss' wife," Wes said, pointing to her name on the list. "He's part of a successful gang. Maybe he hired you?"

"He's not blond," I replied. "And he's the kind of guy who would kill you personally, not hire someone else to do it. And you killed her a long time ago. While she was pregnant."

"Yeah, I know. I still feel guilty about it," Wes sighed as I crossed her name off the list. "I don't need a reminder."

I heard a yawn, and looked up at the banister to see Boze, uncharacteristically awake. Her hair was messy and tangled, she had bags under her eyes, and she was still wearing her sleeping clothes, though she had her gun holster strapped to her waist. She looked cute, in a disheveled way.

"You're up early," I called as she started walking down the stairs.

"I'm hungry," She smiled as she hit me in the arm, which caused me to smile too. Then she noticed Wes, and her smile dropped. "This is him, isn't it?"

"We talked about this Boze," I reminded her.

"Yeah, I know, it's none of my business even though I'm your partner and supposed to be your equal," She said patronizingly before she turned to look at Matt. "Matt! Make me some food!"

She walked over to the counter, and I turned my attention back to Wes. "Excuse her."

"Is that your new partner?" He asked. "The one who wants you to kill me?"

"The one and only," I replied.

"You two seem close," He noted.

I scoffed. "Hardly."

He turned to look at her. She was sitting at the counter, waiting for Matt to get her food. "She's pretty."

"I know," I smiled. "Don't you have a wife?"

He laughed. "I do. Doesn't mean I can't notice beautiful women."

"Kinda does," I shrugged with a smile, before turning my attention back to our list of names. "What about Joe Bereta? He was an influential man with a wife and children. Any of them could've sent the blond man and woman."

"It's possible, I guess," Wes shrugged. "Keep him on the list."

We kept going through the names, crossing out the ones we didn't think would lead us anywhere. We ended up with a list of twenty names, all equally possible leads; aka very bad ones.

"It's a start, I suppose," I sighed, though I knew it wasn't. I realized with a sinking feeling that this was pointless; there was no way we'd be able to find the two blond people in less than a week. But I had to try, at least.

"I suppose," He said sadly, and I knew he had the same thoughts that I did. "Better than nothing."

That's when I started to hear the shouts. I looked outside, and saw men and women running, their children in their arms. Store owners were coming outside their shops with their guns in their hands, and they were all looking down the road. Some people were even leading their horses behind the buildings, which was a smart move; horses panicked when they heard gunshots, and could tear up storefronts. Luckily, Boze had dropped our horses at the stables yesterday.

I looked over at Matt, who had stopped cleaning glasses and looked confused. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," He replied as he fished his families rifle out from under the counter, though he couldn't shoot the wall if he was one foot away from it with that thing. "Bandits, probably. Let's go find out."

Boze had her gun out already, and was making her way to the door, with Matt right behind her. Wes and I followed suit, and the four of us walked outside, and lined up at the front of the Saloon. The three of us looked threatening, while Matt tried to, but failed. I guess it was the thought that counted.

There were two men riding down the road, with blankets covering their heads. They definitely looked like trouble, like the kind of people who would shoot up a Saloon just because they wanted too. It was silent, besides the sound of their horses' hooves hitting the road. Eventually, the Sheriff, Ian, rode out to greet them with his deputy, Noah.

"Hello, travelers," Ian greeted in a welcoming tone, which didn't fit in with the tense atmosphere of the situation. "What brings you two to Deadwood?"

"We're looking for an old friend," The one who had been riding in front answered. They had stopped moving, and were right in front of us. My grip on my gun tightened, and I was ready to shoot at any second. I had the sinking feeling they were here for one of us, and I was pretty sure I knew which one it was.

"Well, I know the names of everyone in this town," Ian explained. "I could help you find them."

"I don't need help," The man said. "I've already found him."

The two men ripped off their blankets, revealing their faces. The man who hadn't been speaking had short black hair, and the leader had short brown hair and a crazy look in his brown eyes. I recognized him, from that one time I talked to him in a Saloon with Flitz about possibly joining his organization, the day Wes had killed his wife and fucked up the entire situation.

"Shit," I exclaimed. Everyone looked at me.

"Do you know who that is?" Matt asked me as the men slid off their horses, kicking up dirt as they landed, their hands on their guns.

"Of course I do, I've talked to him before," I quickly explained. "That's-"

"Wesley Johnson!" The man shouted, turning to face us. "I've been looking for you for the  _longest_  time!"

"-David Moss," I finished, turning to Wesley, who had a shocked look on his face. "I told you he was the type of man who would come kill you personally."


	4. •Four•

_I wiped the sweat off my forehead before sinking my shovel back into the ground._

_I couldn't afford to get her a proper grave in the town's graveyard, so I had no choice but to bury her out here, in the landscape outside of town. We'd found some dirt under a tree, and had started to dig. It could've been worse, I suppose. My father didn't get a grave; his body still sits under the collapsed mine, slowly rotting away._

_Matthew was helping me, and together, we dug my mother's grave. She had contracted some disease from a client, and it had killed her, just this morning. We had carried her out here on a horse, in a bag. I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I wasn't strong enough too._

_Once we decided the hole was deep enough, Matthew got her body, and gently placed it in the hole we'd dug. I didn't watch, and looked at the sunset, to the left of him. Then we started filling the hole back in. I saw the bag her body was in, and started crying. Matt didn't say anything about it, and we worked in silence, save for my sobs._

_Once we were done, and had patted the dirt down so it was flat, I started to speak through my sobs. "I'm sorry we couldn't get you a real grave, mom. I hope this is good enough. I hope you're in heaven, with Dad. Thank you, for everything you've done for me. I'm going to miss you."_

_Matthew had his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him, crying. He held me for a bit, but the sun was setting and we had very little time to get back before it was dark. We had to share a horse, as I was too poor to own one myself. I put my arms around his waist and buried my head in his shoulder. If he minded, he didn't say anything._

_We arrived back at the Saloon just as darkness fell. It was already packed inside, and Matt rushed to the counter. I followed him. His Dad was waiting for him, and as he lectured Matt about being late, I waited at the counter._

_Mr. Sohinki turned to me after he'd finished ratting Matt out."You know that you'll have to keep paying the rent, yes?"_

_I didn't look at him, out of fear that I'd punch him out of anger. Could he not give me any time to grieve? "Yes."_

_Thankfully, he didn't press the topic any further. He left through the door behind the counter, which I knew led to his family's living quarters, and left Matt and I alone._

_"Your Dad's a bastard," I said quietly._

_"I know," Matt said sadly. "How much time do you have left?"_

_"A week," I replied. That was all I had before I'd have to start working, like my mom wished I never would. When I imagined myself in a saloon girl's outfit, flirting with men I didn't know and am not attracted too, and sleeping with them for money, I felt sick. But I had no choice. No one hired Asians here, except for brothels. If I wanted to keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach, I'd have to work here._

_Matt gave me an apologetic look, though I knew it wasn't his fault. His father had always been an asshole, but he had gotten worse since Jon and his wife's deaths. I wondered if he would've made me work if Jon was still alive._

_I downed my drink and waited as Matt served other people. I didn't want to think. I wanted to run, to be far away from here and never come back._

_I was staring at the bottles on the wall behind the counter when a man sat down next to me. I turned to look at him. He was tall, had dark skin, an eyepatch, and was wearing a cowboy's hat. I looked at him strangely, and he smiled at me._

_"A woman as pretty as you should never have an empty glass," He said, placing a couple of coins on the table._

_I didn't know how to react. He was a handsome man, and I was never one to turn down a free drink. Besides, there were plenty of witnesses around if things got dicey. "Thank you."_

_"The pleasure's all mine," He said, and I knew he was flirting with me. "What's your name?"_

_"Mari," I stuck out my hand. "What's yours?"_

_"Flitz," He took my hand and kissed it. "Nice to meet you, Mari."_

• • •

"Do you remember my wife, Wesley?" David asked. "You know, the pregnant woman you murdered so you could make some quick money off her necklace?"

"This is bad," Wesley muttered.

"Yeah, no  _shit_ ," I replied.

"What's the plan?" Boze asked me. "If this David dude kills Wes, we won't get  _any_  money."

She was right. This was bad, for all four of us. Well, maybe not Matthew, but still. I needed to come up with something, and I needed to do it  _fast._

"Yes, I remember your wife," Wes shouted. "I regret my actions every day."

"Well, that's not going to bring her back, is it?" David asked. "I'm going to give you the chance you never gave her. I challenge you to a gunfight, Wesley Johnson."

"Wes, don't-" I started.

"I accept!" Wes shouted.

I buried my head in my hands. "Wes you  _idiot._ "

"I'm good with a gun," Wes muttered to me. "I'll win."

"No, you won't," I called as he walked out to face David. "He's the most skilled gunman in the West! He's won over thirty gunfights!"

But Wes wasn't listening to me, and was already facing David. It made me think of the old Wes; he used to always do that. He'd do what he wanted and never listen to Flitz or I, which is what got him into this situation and so many others like it. It made my blood boil, just like it had back then.

A silence fell over everyone as David and Wes faced each other. Neither the sheriff or the deputy intervened, which was a good move on their parts. David could shoot them both before you could blink. I remembered him, on that night all those years ago, when he found his wife's body, and we'd had to run. The only reason we'd escaped with our lives was because, by the time he'd collected his wits, we'd been out of his range.

"What's the plan?" Boze asked me.

"I don't know," I replied. "Pray that he wins?"  
  
"Screw that," Boze huffed, tucking her hair behind her ear.

I ignored her and turned my attention back to the gunfight.  _C'mon Mari,_  I thought.  _Think of something!_

_Bang._

The man who was standing behind David crumpled. I turned to look at Boze in shock, while David turned to look at his fallen companion. Before Wes could pull his gun, Boze shot David in the leg, and he shouted in pain and fell. Sheriff Ian rushed over to him and told Noah to get a medic. Boze blew the smoke off her gun and shoved it back in her holster.

"Boze," I said angrily. "What the  _Hell?_ "

"You were taking too long," She huffed. "So I took matters into my own hands."

She shrugged and looked at me. Her uncaring expression made me want to slap her.

"That was not honorable," I scolded, crossing my arms. It was the number one rule of gunfights; you can't have one of your companions harm your opponent. And yet here she was, harming our opponent.

"Since when have we been honorable, hmm?" She asked me. "Your friend's alive. You should be thanking me."

Somehow, her smug smile made her look even more beautiful than she normally did.

"What the Hell, Mari?" Wes asked angrily. I turned to face him. 

"I should be asking the same question!" I shouted back, completely forgetting about my anger at Boze as I remembered how angry I was with him. "What were you thinking, accepting that challenge? He would've killed you!"

We stared at each other angrily. I felt my anger from our last argument rise again. He said he'd changed, but at the moment, I felt like he had lied. What's next? Is he going to pull a bag of cocaine out of his pocket? Shoot another pregnant woman?

"You know how I get," He muttered apologetically.

"Yeah, I do," I said angrily. Was he seriously trying to use that as an excuse? "It's why I ditched you as a partner."

"Mari-" He started, but I cut him off.

"No!" I shouted, not wanting to talk to him, not wanting to hear his voice. "Don't start. Leave. I'll see you tomorrow."

He didn't even try to argue, and I walked into the Saloon. I could hear him walk away behind me.

"Can I kill him yet?" Boze asked, throwing her arm around my shoulders, despite the fact that she was shorter than me.

"No," I replied. I should've shrugged her off, especially because I was angry at her, but for some strange reason, I didn't.

• • •

Matt, Boze, and I were playing cards, right before the nightly rush. We were all good players, though Boze was the best. I wondered how much practice she's had, in all those years she'd spent as a saloon girl. Is that what they did when they weren't serving or flirting with clients? I would've known, I suppose, if Flitz hadn't talked to me that night, four years ago. The thought made me shiver.

The doors opened. I looked up, half expecting to see Wes and to have to yell at him, but to my shock, it was the sheriff. His deputy was nowhere to be seen.

"Our... visitor wants to see someone named Mari," Ian stated. "He said I could find her here."

 _So he remembers my name. That's nice._  "You found her."

He nods, and I stood up. I followed him to the hospital. It was a long walk, yet neither of us said a word.

Deadwood's hospital was rather large. It was mostly filled with miner's, both the sick ones and the injured ones. People would travel here for it, as we had some of the only credible doctors in the west. I remembered seeing Jon here, dying in his hospital bed, though the nurses hadn't let us past the doorway.

David was lying in a bed, his leg bandaged and lifted in the air with straps. His bandage was stained red with enough blood to make me wonder how he was still conscious. I sat down next to him, and Ian left.

"You're up early," I joked.

He laughed. "Your partner shot me in just the right spot. Didn't hit anything that could kill me, but hit enough to make me go down and put me in a lot of pain."

"She is quite the shot," I stated. "Are you going to try and kill me?"

He laughed. "No. I remember you, Mari Takahashi."

"Well, you know," I shrugged. "Last time we saw each other you did try to kill me."

"Yes, I did," He frowned. "I thought that you had conspired with him to kill my wife."

"Never," I stated. I knew that by 'him', David meant Wes. "He did that all by himself."

"I heard you had started working alone, Atomic," He said. "Why are you back with him again?"

"That's none of your business," I stated.

He smiled. "You haven't changed. That's exactly how you spoke to me when you and that bloke talked to me about joining my organization. I would've let you in, you know, if it wasn't for him. Just another one of the things he's ruined for you, I suppose."

"I think it's a good thing I didn't join your organization," I said. "I don't think I belong in a gang."

"I think you do," He said. "But I suppose that's just my opinion."

"You're right," I stated. "It is."

"Well, if we're talking about opinions," David said. "I think that Wesley Johnson had something to do with that night, with Damien Haas and Amra Ricketts. And I think, once you find that out, you're going to wish your partner let me kill him."

"Goodbye, David," I stood up. "Pleasure talking to you."

"Trust me," He called as I hurried out of the room. "You're going to wish I had killed him. Because now, you're going to have to kill him yourself, if you ever want justice for the man you loved!"


	5. •Five•

_I stood outside Matt's room. My fist was resting on the door. I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to summon the courage to knock. Eventually, I did, and I brought my hand down on the wood._

_Matt opened it immediately. He took one look at me, and he instantly knew something was wrong. He gestured me inside._

_"What's up?" He asked._

_"Matt," I sat down on his bed, taking a few more breaths. I could do this. "Matt, I'm leaving."_

_To say he looked shocked was an understatement. "What?"_

_"Do you remember Flitz?" I asked._

_"The guy you met, like, five days ago?" He asked. "What about him?"_

_"He has the financial capability to support the both of us," I explained. "He's leaving today, and he offered me a spot next to him on his journey. I took it."_

_"Are you insane?" Matt yelled. "You just met the guy! He could be a rapist! Or a murder! He could sell you into slavery!"_

_"Those are all risks I'm going to have to take," I explained. "I can't be a prostitute, Matt, I can't. I'd rather be dead, or a slave."_

_A tear rolled down Matt's cheek, and I knew he believed me. Matt had always known me like that. I'm sure he already knew I'd be planning a way out, just perhaps not like this. "Will I ever see you again?"_

_I hugged him. "Yes. I promise."_

_He hugged me back. We stayed like that for a few minutes, both of us crying, before I pulled away. "Goodbye, Matt."_

_"Goodbye, Mari," He replied, and I hurried out of the Saloon, trying not to think of him. Matthew was part of my old life now, the one_ _I_ _was leaving behind. I intended to keep my promise, but I knew I wouldn't see him for a long time. It would be best to just forget about him right now._

_Flitz was done strapping my few belongings to the horse he'd bought for me. He turned to look at me. "You ready to go?"_

_I wiped my tears off my face, trying to look strong. "Yes."_

_He hopped on his horse, and I followed suit. Together, we rode down the deserted road, and straight out of Deadwood._

_* * *_

_We rode for a few hours. It was night, so the air was cool. We had abandoned the road awhile ago, and were riding through land that was barely flat enough to ride on. I knew why, of course; Flitz was a criminal, and even though he wasn't wanted, he couldn't risk being found._

_I spent the whole ride thinking. I'd never been this far out of Deadwood before. I felt like I was doing something wrong. I suppose it was because of the circumstances. Just two weeks ago, back when my mother was alive, I wouldn't have even been able to imagine myself doing this. And yet here I was, riding side-by-side with a man I'd just met, a man who had openly admitted to being a criminal and wanted me to join him in his work._

_I'd shown him my skill with a gun the day after I'd met him, when he'd thrown beer bottl_ _es_ _into the air and I'd shot them, not missing a single one no matter how he threw it. And I'd told him all about how I'd wanted to leave Deadwood the next day, after we both got drunk. He'd asked me if I wanted to run away with him. That he was a bounty hunter, and a hired killer, and that he wanted me to join him. And I had accepted, without a moment's hesitation._

_There was something about him that just made me inherently trust him. Maybe it was his smile, or the way he spoke, but I just felt... comfortable around him. My mother had said that those were the most dangerous types of people, the people who could get you to put your guard down with a smile. I hoped she was wrong, because there was no turning back now._

_My main worry was my conscious. Bounty hunter, hired killer... those were both jobs that involved killing people. I wouldn't be shooting beer bottles, I'd be shooting people, real people with real lives and families. Would I be able to bring myself to kill someone, to hurt someone, when it came down to it?_

_We rode over a small hill, and came out in a small camp. There were two tents, and a bulky man assembling a fire. He looked up when he saw us, and looked confused when he saw me._

_That had to be Wes, the man Flitz had told me about. He was Flitz's partner, though he wasn't a very good one. Apparently, he was a drug addict, and a gambler. Flitz was thinking about dropping him, but said he was relatively harmless if he wasn't high. I'd have to take his word for it, and besides; even the strongest men are weaker than a bullet._

_He stood up, revealing his height. "Flitz, welcome back. Didn't know that we'd have a visitor."_

_"Wes, this Mari," Flitz hoped off his horse. "Mari, this is Wes."_

_"What's she doing here?" Wes asked. "We haven't talked about this."_

_"She's our new partner," Flitz explained._

_"She's a woman," Wes countered._

_"You don't need a dick to pull a trigger," I piped up from on top of my horse. I didn't like this man, I could tell already. I hoped it was just a bad first impression._

_"Women are too weak-hearted to take a life," Wes rolled his eyes. "You women couldn't hurt a fly if-"_

Bang.

_I blew the smoke off the top of my gun as Wes screamed and brought his hand to his ear, which was bleeding. I had taken the top of it off, and my bullet had landed in the fire behind him._

_"Is that enough?" I asked. "Or do you need another example of how weak-hearted I can be?"_

_Flitz shot me a concerned look, as I stared at Wes. I may have just made the biggest mistake in my life. I tightened my grip on my gun, ready to shoot if he tried anything._

_Then Wes started laughing. A real laugh, as he brought his bloodstained hand off the side of his head._

_"It seems I was wrong," Wes smiled. "Welcome to the team, Mari."_

_I smiled, and Flitz did too. We shared a look, and I could see pride in his eyes. I couldn't shake the exhilaration I'd felt, and the pride, for doing that. I hadn't even thought about it; I'd just pulled the trigger, and brought a lot of pain to someone else. I didn't even feel guilty about it, even as I watched Wes bandage his head, wincing every once in awhile in pain. All my past doubts flew away, and I knew I'd made the right choice._

_I was going to like it here._

• • •

I couldn't help but think about what David had said.

How  _dare_  he even  _suggest_  that Wes had anything to do with Flitz's death. He had been Flitz's best friend. Even in his worst state, I couldn't believe that he'd ever harm Flitz. I couldn't even  _think_  it.

 _Relax, Mari,_  I told myself.  _He just said it to get a rise out of you. He's a criminal, a con artist. He wants me to turn on Wes because he hates him._

I repeated it to myself until I believed it. I took a deep breath, and pulled myself out of bed.

I exited our room and looked down. I saw Boze, making out with some handsome young man. The sight made me... strangely jealous, though I didn't quite know why. I quickly looked away, and made my way down the stairs.

I sat down at the counter. Business wasn't exceptionally fast today, so Matt had enough time to come up to me.

"You okay?" He asked me.

"You've been asking that far too much nowadays," I replied, placing some money on the counter. "Get me a drink."

"It's because I'm worried about you," He said as he placed my drink in front of me. "This whole... Wes situation. I don't think it's good for you."

"It's not," I replied. "But it's not a cold I can cure with a simple herbal remedy, Matt. I have to solve it."

"You could do what Boze wants you too," He suggested. "And solve it with a bullet to his head."

"I can't," I downed the entire drink in one gulp. "You know I can't."

He sighed as I got up, and made my way back to our room.

• • •

Wes was waiting for me. I saw him from the banister, and forced myself to walk over to him.

"Mari, I'm sorry about-" He started as soon as I reached him.

"Don't," I cut him off. "I'm too sober to hear that."

Thankfully, he shut his mouth, and I walked over to Matthew, who was cleaning glasses behind the counter. He nodded, and went to make me breakfast.

"What's the plan for today?" Wes asked, sitting next to me.

"I don't know," I waved at him. "Think of something."

"Well, my wife wants me home in an hour," He said. "So I don't have much time."

"Just take me with you," I muttered. "I want to meet this poor woman."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't have a choice, I suppose."

After I'd eaten my breakfast, he got his horse and we started walking to the stables, where I got my horse. Then we both rode to his house.

He lived a little ways from Deadwood, but not too far off, in a ranch. he had a small farm, with a few animals.

"Are you a farmer now?" I asked him.

"Yes," He replied. "Have to make a living somehow, you know?"

"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement.

We pulled up to the front of his house. It wasn't a large house, but it wasn't small, either. We hoped off our horses, and walked up to the front door.

He unlocked it, and we kicked off our shoes. A woman came to greet us. She was pretty, and noticeably pregnant.

"Wes, you're home for once," She smiled at him. Then she noticed me, and I could tell from her expression that she'd never seen an Asian person before. "Who's this?"

"Honey, this is Mari," He introduced. "Mari, this is my wife, Isabelle."

"Nice to meet you," I stuck out my hand. "I'm an old friend."

She shook my hand. "Nice to meet you too, I guess. I'm sorry, but I wasn't expecting a third person, so I didn't make any food for you."

"That's fine," I smiled. "I just ate, anyway."

"So, uh, what brings you to our house?" She asked me.

"We have some things to talk about," Wes said for me. "And she's going to help out with some of the farm work I've missed."

"Oh, but we don't have any money to pay her with," Isabelle said worriedly.

"Don't worry," I said, shooting Wes a look. Did he seriously just rope me into doing his chores? "I'll do it for free."

"Oh, well, thank you," She smiled at me. "Wes, come get your lunch."

He followed her down the hallway into what I assumed was the kitchen, leaving me standing awkwardly next to the door. I looked around. It was a plain house, with simple furniture and architecture. Hanging on the wall was a portrait of him and his wife, taken at their wedding. They both looked happy.

It made me think of Flitz and I. We were never too big on marriage; we both thought it was binding, constructing, and a social construct that we didn't need to follow to show our love for one another. We had talked about kids, but neither of us really wanted them; I couldn't bear the thought of being pregnant. Wes and his wife; their relationship was so unlike our's had been. Then again, not many people fell in love with the person they killed people with.

I thought of Boze for some reason, before quickly shaking the thought from my head.

Wes had returned, and I started putting on my shoes. He said goodbye to his wife, and we walked outside.

"Smooth move, roping me into your chores," I said bitterly.

"I needed to make sure she wouldn't overhear us," He replied. "Now, c'mon. We need to feed the pigs."


	6. •Six•

_My pocket was heavy with gold._

_We'd spent the past month tracking down Sunny Peabody, a criminal who had robbed the wrong rich man. Not only had he had a bounty on his head, but we had also been hired to kill him by said man. We'd earned more money off this one job than most people made in their lives. Not that we'd stop; Wes would blow his share on his addictions, and Flitz and I loved the thrill. I couldn't imagine stopping. I doubted that we ever would._

_Flitz and I had rented out a room at the Saloon. I was exhausted. We had been riding for hours, and I didn't really feel like gambling or drinking right now, like we normally did after a successful hunt. All I wanted to do was curl up in Flitz's arms and sleep._

_I slammed the door to our room open, making Flitz chuckle. We both got changed into our sleeping attire, and climbed into bed. I snuggled against him, and yawned. He wrapped his arms around my stomach, holding me close to him._

_"You have adorable yawns," I could hear his smile in his voice._

_"Everything I do is adorable," I joked, turning around to face him. "You know that."_

_He caressed my face, that smile I loved so much plastered on his lips. "I know."_

_He brought my lips to his, and I didn't pull away. This was when we shared most of our kisses; everything was always so hectic during the day, preventing us from having moments like these. Moments where it was just the two of us. Only at night, when everything had slowed down, could we really enjoy each other's company._

_He pulled away. "I love you, Mari."_

_My eyes widened, and I stared at him. Neither of us had ever said those words to each other before. It was unspoken between us, between every time we touched and every time we spoke. But hearing those three simple words come out of his mouth made everything real, and I found myself saying it back._

_"I love you too, Flitz," I breathed as I brought my lips back to his. I meant it._

_And suddenly, I didn't feel tired anymore._

• • •

Unsurprisingly, it wasn't very effective to brainstorm or plan anything out while doing farm work. The only thing we'd gained from today was a suspicious wife. I'd told her that I didn't want to fuck Wes, but I'm pretty sure that just made her more suspicious. What Wes saw in her, I didn't know.

It had started raining, which it almost never did around here. The road was deserted, and I was pretty sure the Saloon wouldn't be that crowded tonight. Most people didn't like leaving their houses during storms, choosing instead to wait them out while eating hot soup. I remembered all those nights, when it had rained while we were camping, and water had soaked through our tents. Those weren't my best memories.

I arrived at the Saloon, and kicked off my boots the second I got inside. Matthew smiled when he saw me, and I flipped him off before walking up to my room.

Boze was already there, reading a book.

"You can read?" I joked.

She rolled her eyes at me, but I caught her smile.

I got changed. I had been completely soaked, and had to change everything. I could feel Boze's eyes on me, but I didn't really care.

Once I was changed, I made my way down to the counter. Matt had already made me a bowl of hot soup, which was amazing. Instances like these made me wonder if Matt was an angel.

"Any luck with Wes?" Matt asked.

"Take a guess," I said in between slurps of soup.

"You didn't?" He guessed.

"Bingo," I said, finishing the soup.

"Well, I'm going to call it an early night," He said, stretching. "I feel like there won't be much business tonight."

"I feel so too," I smiled.

"Oh, and there was some news that I thought might interest you," Matt told me. "David Moss disappeared."

"Disappeared?" I asked.

"Yeah," He replied. "When one of the nurses entered his room to bring him breakfast, the bed was empty. There were no signs of a struggle."

"Well, he is the leader of a gang," I stated. "Probably got some of his men to come get him.

"Probably," Matt yawned. "Goodnight, Mari."

"Night," I replied as he went to his room.

So David was on the loose. We'd still have some time, as he wouldn't return until his leg had healed. At the rate Wes and I were going, David was the least of our problems.

I sighed and walked back up to my room. Boze was still lying there, reading her book. I sat down on my bed, running my fingers through my knotted hair. I gritted my teeth; I should've brushed it before my hair dried.

"Why do you never wear your hair in a braid?" Boze asked me.

I looked at her. "What?"

"Braid? You know, the hairstyle?" Boze smiled. "It helps keep your hair unknotted."

"I-" I stammered, embarrassed. "I don't know how to do braids."

She looked at me incredulously. "Your mom never taught you?"

"No," I shook my head. My mother had always been so busy, I doubted it had ever crossed her mind. It wasn't like I had asked, either.

"I'll teach you," She offered. "If you want."

I looked at her. Normally, I'd refuse, as I hated having people in my personal space. But this was Boze, and for some reason, the thought of her doing my hair was anything but unwanted.

"Sure," I shrugged.

She smiled. There was a mirror, hanging against the wall, and she pulled the one chair we had in front of it. I sat down, sand she got her hairbrush out of her bag.

Her years as a prostitute had give her a lot of practice, it seemed. I remembered my mother, expertly doing her hair in front of the same mirror, as I watched quietly. If I was lucky, I could talk to her as she did it. But on packed nights, when she was so concentrated, I couldn't even dream of it.

Boze expertly brushed my hair, getting out the knots without pulling on my hair or hurting me. It was sort of pleasurable, like a message.

"We don't know much about each other, do we?" She asked as she worked.

"No, we don't," I watched her through the mirror.

"Do you want to play a sort-of game?" She asked me. "Where we take turns asking each other about each other. You have to answer honestly."

I should say no. My last two partners I had been completely open with, and one of them I was probably going to have to kill. The other one I had loved, and had been left heartbroken after he was murdered by an unknown assailant. Neither had ended well. I should say no.

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll go first."

"What do you want to know?" She asked me.

"Why did you become a prostitute?" I asked her.

"I had no home and needed money," She replied. "Didn't have many options. How do you and Matt know each other?"

"We've been friends since we were five," I replied. "Deadwood is my hometown. Why didn't you have a home?"

"Had no choice," She said sadly. "I lived in a small town growing up. Wasn't much order. The klu klux klan visited for a month, and convinced some of the younger white men to kill us black people. They were rounding us up, hanging us from trees and setting us on fire. I barely escaped with my life."

"That's horrible," I said, horrified. "We should go there sometime, and murder them. Every single one of them."

She smiled. "I'd like that, though I killed a couple of them already."

There was a brief moment of silence as she brushed my hair and I stared at her. I'd faced my share of racism but that; that was unlike anything I'd ever heard off. And to have to go through it... I couldn't imagine it. No wondered she was so skilled with a gun; after that experience, you'd want to be able to protect yourself as much as possible.

"Why'd you leave Deadwood?" She asked me.

"My mother died," I explained. "My only choice was to become a prostitute if I wanted to earn any money. No disrespect, but... I couldn't. Then a man showed up, with enough financial stability to support both of us, and I left with him."

"None taken," She smiled. "So you ran away with a man."

"Yeah," I replied. "I suppose I did."

There was a brief pause as neither of us speaked.

"Why'd you shoot Matt Raub?" I asked.

"I was sick of my life," She replied, finishing brushing my hair. "Sick of sleeping with men I didn't know, every night, with the threat of disease and violence over my head the entire time. I couldn't take it anymore. Did you love the man you ran away with?"

"Yes," I replied. "Not when I ran away with him, but I fell in love with him afterward. Have you ever been in love?"

"No," She replied. "But I've come close twice. Is he the reason you got into bounty hunting?"

"Yes," I replied. "It was part of our original agreement; I'd help him kill people, he'd give me the resources to support myself outside of Deadwood. Who was the first one?"

"A man named Damien Haas," Boze shrugged. "Came into my town on gang business for a few weeks. Flirted his way into my bed. Then he had to leave, and I haven't seen him since."

"He's dead," I remembered his name. I'd seen his body, lying on the floor next to Flitz's. "I'm sorry."

"I expected as much," Boze sighed. "Is the man you loved still alive?"

"No," I said sadly. "He died with Damien. I still don't know what happened."

"I guess the men in our lives just have terrible luck," She joked.

I laughed. "Who was the second one?"

"A woman," Boze stated.

I turned to look at her. "A woman?"

"A woman," Boze repeated.

That was rare. There weren't that many people out there who accepted that they liked members of the same-sex, especially if they also liked members of the opposite-sex. God said it was a sin, so it was usually frowned upon, more so on male relationships then female relationships, but it was still dangerous. The more I learned about Boze, the more respect I gained for her.

"And what's her name?" I asked.

"Mari Takahashi," She smiled.

My eyes widened. She looked straight at me, and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked, her face lit by nothing but the flickering light of the lantern dangling above us. We stared at each other. I didn't know how to respond.

"Me?" I asked.

"You," She smiled.

I felt like a child, blubbering over my words. I touched the side of her face. She was beautiful, and smart, and strong. She gingerly touched my face with her hand, and brought her lips to mine.

I closed my eyes. It rekindled something in me, something I thought had died with Flitz, and I found myself kissing her back. I didn't care that she was a woman; I cared about how good this felt, how right.

I'd never really thought about girls before. Before Flitz, I hadn't really thought about anyone. I'd always just assumed that I was into guys, and guys only. But now, as I kissed her, touched her, I realized why I had been noticing her beauty since the day we met.

We pulled away, gasping for breath. We both smiled at each other, giggling like little girls, before we kissed again. I stood up, and wrapped my arms around her waist, while she wrapped hers around my neck. We stayed like that for awhile, holding each other, kissing each other, enjoying each other. She was intoxicating, similarly to how Flitz had been, but in a different way. He had been slow, small doses of a drug you grew dependent on. She was fast, addictive, and got you high so quickly you could barely register how you got there, just that you were there, with her.

I didn't want to come down. I didn't want it to end.


	7. •Seven•

_"Have fun," I told him._

_"You sure you don't want to join us?" Flitz asked me. "It'll be fun."_

_"I'm tired," I yawned. It had been a long day, as it had taken forever for us to get to Tombstone. All I wanted to do was sleep. "Besides, you have that guy from Shayne's gang to keep you company."_

_"His name's Damien," Flitz smiled._

_"Be careful," I told him. "Rember what happened with David, the last time we did anything involving a gang."_

_"I will be," He assured me. "Besides, Damien's a great guy, and Wes won't be joining us."_

_"Just don't get yourself killed," I told him._

_"I won't," He agreed. "Love you."_

_"Love you too," I called back as I slid into bed and he left our room, and entered the Saloon outside it._

_* * *_

_I awoke to the sound of a gunshot. Another one followed it quickly, and then I heard screams._

_I was still in my nightclothes, but I didn't care. I grabbed my gun and burst out our room. The only thing I could think about was Flitz. He was fine, I reassured myself. He has to be fine._

_I ran down the stairs. There were people standing in a circle, while people ran out of the Saloon, probably to try and catch the murder. I couldn't hear anything, my blood pounding in my ears as I shoved my way through the people._

_There were two men lying on the ground. One had been shot in the head, breaking his glasses in two. I recognized him; Damien Haas, the man Flitz had been with._

_He was lying next to him, gasping for breath with a bullet in his chest. No one was trying to help him; everyone knew there was nothing to be done. I dropped to my knees next to him as tears started to flood my eyes, flowing down my face in streams. Flitz._

_"Flitz," I sobbed as I brought my hands to his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. I knew it was pointless, but I did it anyway._

_He couldn't speak, but he brought his hand up and weakly stroked my face before going still. There was a silence, my strangled sobs the only sound in the Saloon._

_Then I screamed, a loud, mournful scream. I couldn't process it. I couldn't imagine that Flitz was dead, that the man I loved was dead, even though I was kneeling next to his corpse._

_"Who killed you?" I screamed. "Who did this?"_

_No one answered me. They just watched, watched as I broke down, collapsing on his still chest, begging him to start breathing again._

• • •

I'd only ever been to church once.

Matt's mom had taken me, along with her two sons. I had been bored the entire time; I was young, and I didn't really understand anything the priest had been saying. My mother had never been very religious; we weren't English, after all. She had been the daughter of a woman who had been kidnapped in Japan, and had been sold here illegally. Even though my grandmother had raised her to be a Christian, mainly because it was dangerous not to be one here, my mother had never been devout. Neither was I.

But I was desperate. I still believed in God, mainly because I couldn't think of a better explanation for why we were here, or any of the other questions his existence could answer. And, in a way, it was comforting to think that some great deity loved me; even if I definitely was going to go to Hell.

So when I walked into one of Deadwood's churches, soaked to the bone, it was in an act of desperation. It was deserted; the rain hadn't stopped, and it wasn't Sunday, so no one was here.

It was a pretty building; stained glass windows, white walls, rows of seats made of wood. I walked down the aisle, and kneeled in front of the largest cross hanging at the back of the room.

I'd never prayed before. I'd seen other people do it, mainly Flitz; he used to pray every morning, right when we woke up. It always made me wonder; how did a devout Christian end up committing all the sins we did on a daily basis? I never asked him, and now I'd never know.

"So, um," I started. "Hi, God. I'm Mari, though you already knew that, obviously. Uh, I'm not here to ask for forgiveness, if you were wondering. I've committed far too many sins to do that, and I don't plan on stopping. Murder's one of the ten commandments, right? That makes it extra big, right?"

I stared up at the bronze Jesus, nailed to the cross. His pained expression didn't change, which made me feel a little disappointed, though I don't know why I was expecting a response.

I cleared my throat. "And I've also slept with a woman. That's a sin too, isn't it? I'm definitely not sorry for that one. Anyways, I'm not here for myself."

The only sound I could hear was the rain outside, pelting the church. It was a comforting sound, though I was cold and was dreading going back outside.

"My friend, Wes," I explained. "Someone wants him dead, and they want me to do it. I want to help him, but I don't know how. I've tried everything I can think of, but I can't figure out how too. I know I don't deserve your help, but please, God, I need it. Please help me."

I kneeled there for a few more seconds, my head bowed with my hands in a prayer position. Then I stood up, doubting I had done any of that right, and exited the church.

I hadn't taken my horse, out of the kindness of my heart. So I walked. It was torture, in a way. In all my life, I'd never seen this much rain. Where were we, Canada?

By the time the Saloon came into view, I couldn't help but feel relieved. I practically ran up to it, before noticing that something was wrong.

The curtains were drawn shut.

Matt never shut the curtains, except for after the Saloon closed. He always kept them open, so he could have something to look at as he washed the glasses. He especially loved looking at rain. He had been awake when I left, which means someone else closed them, and it couldn't have been Boze. She's either still asleep, and if she isn't, too lazy to close them even if she had a reason too.

I drew my gun, and slowly walked up to the door. I kicked them open, my gun raised, and surveyed the room.

Matt was at the counter, his expression shocked. I gave him an odd look, because there was no one else in the Saloon. Then I looked up, and almost dropped my gun.

The blonde woman, one of the two who had hired me to kill Wes, was leaning on the banister, a bottle of beer in her hand and a smile on her lips. But that wasn't what shocked me. Behind her was a dark-skinned man wearing a cowboy hat, his arm around Boze's neck and his gun to her head. She looked panicked and terrified, which broke my heart.

"Ah, Atomic!" The blonde woman announced, her smile widening. "We've been waiting for you!"

I shot a look at Matt, who was looking frantically between the woman and I, his hands shaking on the counter. He had a look of panic on his face.

"I suggest you put away your gun, Mari," The woman instructed. "Or I'll have my friend Keith here put a bullet through your friend here's head."

She turned, and drew her finger down Boze's face, causing her to shiver. "It'd be a shame to waste a face as pretty as this one."

Boze's look of absolute panic made me instantly shove my gun back in its holster. I was terrified. All I could think off was Flitz's body. I couldn't bear to lose Boze too, not after we just started something, even if I wasn't quite sure what that something was yet.

"Smart girl," The woman purred. "I'm Courtney. My husband and I know something you'll want to hear."

I didn't say a word. Whatever this woman wanted to tell me, I didn't want to hear it. I wanted to put a bullet through her brain, along with Keith's, for daring to touch Boze.

"C'mon up here," Courtney instructed me. "Shayne's waiting for you."

I had no choice but to do what she told me. I walked up the stairs. She stepped out of my way, and opened the door to Boze and I's room.

"You'll be fine, I promise," I told Boze, who didn't look very convinced, before I entered the room.

There was a man was sitting on the chair, which I had been sitting in while Boze braided my hair just last night. Courtney shut the door behind me.

I sat down on my bed, and Courtney leaned against the wall. I stared at the man. He was the blond man, the man I had spent the last few days trying to find. If only I'd known that he'd show up at my doorstep.

"Hello, Mari," He smiled, tapping his fingers on the glass of beer he had in his hands. "I'm Shayne Topp. I'm sure you've heard of me?"

"Everyone has," I replied.

He gave out a small laugh. "You haven't killed Wes yet."

"Of course I haven't," I replied. "He's my friend. You know that."

"I do know that," He replied. "That's why I hired you."

"Then you're not as smart as people say you are," I replied harshly. It was true; I'd only ever heard good things about Shayne Topp, the notorious gang leader who was just as skilled with his mind as he was with a gun. Flitz had known one of his men, Damien, who had also been Boze's past lover. They had died together.

"People do tend to, overdramatize things, so I agree with your statement," He replied, leaning back in his chair. "But I knew what I was doing when I hired you."

"Did you now?" I asked skeptically.

"Yes," He leaned in. "There are a few people Wes killed that he didn't tell you about."

"He didn't remember the names of all of them," I shot back.

"Oh, he definitely remembered these peoples names," He smiled. "Do you remember Damien Haas, the man I loved like a brother?"

"I saw his corpse," I replied. "But I never talked to him."

"Ah, yes, it was only your lover who did," He replied, taking a sip of his drink. "Tell me, Courtney, what was his name again?"

"Amra Ricketts," Courtney replied. She had lit a cigarette, and smoke came out of her lips as she spoke.

"Yes, that was the name, thank you, dear," He told Courtney. "But you called him Flitz, didn't you?"

My heart started pounding. I was starting to see where he was going with this, and David Moss' words rang in my ears:

_I think Wesley had something to do with that night, with Damien Haas and Amra Ricketts. And I think, once you find that out, you're going to wish your partner let me kill him._

"You never figured out who killed him, did you?" Shaye asked. "Well, Courtney and I have. Do you want to know who killed the man you loved, Mari?"

I knew whose name he was going to say, and I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to imagine it. Yet my lips moved anyways. "Yes."

"He was under the influence of drugs, cocaine I believe it was, and had thought that Flitz had cheated in their card game," Shayne wasn't smiling anymore. "Damien tried to stand up for him, so he shot them both."

"His name," Courtney piped up, exhaling smoke from her lungs, "is Wesley Johnson."


	8. •Eight•

_I needed to go._

_We had planned on spending five nights here, but I couldn't. I didn't care that we had paid. All this place was doing was reminding me of Flitz, and I couldn't bear to think of him, out of fear that I'd break down and never get back up. All his things remained on his bed, the same way they were when he threw them there last night. I couldn't bring myself to take them with me._

_"Mari?" Wes was at my doorway. "What are you doing?"_

_"Leaving," I replied._

_"Without telling me?" He asked, a confused look on his face._

_"He's dead," I growled. "You remind me too much of him. I can't have you around anymore, especially with your addictions."_

_"What?" He shouted angrily._

_"I can't be around you anymore!" I shouted back. "You're destructive, Wes! I'm going to start over, and I can't do that with you."_

_"I'm your partner, Mari," He growled. "You can't just abandon me."_

_"I can, and I will," I shouted, taking a long drink out of my bottle of beer to try and calm myself down. I couldn't be around him, I couldn't bear to listen to him. "You don't own me, and you can't stop me."_

_I picked up my bag and tried to shove past him. He grabbed my wrist, making me stop._

_"Mari," He started. "Please don't-"_

_I swung my beer bottle onto the side of his head. It shattered, and I had to bring my hands to my face to protect myself. He kneeled over, screaming in pain. I ran past him, throwing my keys at the counter as I ran out of the Saloon, and onto my horse. With one swift kick to her side, I was off._

_I was going to go to Deadwood. I had promised Matt he would see me again, and hadn't yet delivered on that promise. Besides, I needed a friend, and Matt was the only one I had now. I could figure out what I was going to do from there._

• • •

I buried my head in my hands, my breaths quickening as I processed what they had just said to me.

I didn't want to believe it, but they had no reason to lie. The worst part was, I could see Wes doing it. I felt like crying, and I wanted to curl up in a ball, to be far away from here.

Then anger consumed me, and they didn't try to stop me as I stormed out of the room. Keith lowered the gun from Boze's head, but I wasn't thinking about her right now. All I could think about was Flitz, and how warm his blood had been on my hands. It was Wes' fault, and he had to pay.

David had been right; I do wish I had let him kill Wes. Because now, I'd have to do it myself. Was this how he felt, when he had found Sabrina's necklace, the one that had been stolen from her corpse, in Wes' pocket? This raging, burning anger that made you want to rip Wes' throat out with your bare hands? Suddenly, I didn't blame him for wanting to kill all three of us the moment he found out what Wes had done.

I stormed out of the Saloon, and hopped onto my horse. I had one destination; Wes' house.

It was still raining, but I could barely feel it as I rode my horse as fast as I could. Mud coated the ground, slowing me down. I forced my horse through it, for once not caring about her health. All I cared about was putting a bullet through Wes' skull.

I was soaked and dirty by the time I reached Wes' house. I wasn't thinking straight; I was so focused on my anger. I angrily pounded on the door, so hard my knuckles started bleeding. I couldn't feel it.

Wes opened the door, and immediately looked confused. He opened his mouth to say something, but I grabbed him by his shirt collar before he could, and pulled him outside. He face-planted in the mud, and I slammed the door.

"Mari, what the-" he started, but he stopped when he noticed that I had my gun in my hands, and was pointing it straight at him.

"You killed him," I growled. "You killed Flitz!"

He stared at me, but he didn't deny it. The small, thin strand of hope that I'd had that Shayne had been lying too me vanished. Wes had done it. Wes had killed the man I loved.

"Mari-" Wes started.

"I loved him!" I was crying now, and shouting, as the information finally sunk in. "He was your friend, and I loved him! How could you?"

"Mari, please," Wes begged. "Put the gun down. Give me a chance to talk."

"Did you give him a chance to talk?" I asked angrily. "Before you put a bullet in his chest?"

Wes was silent. My hand was trembling so much I was scared I'd drop my gun. I couldn't have looked very frightening, shaking in the rain, but I didn't care. My anger was slowly dissipating, replaced with an overwhelming sadness that had been tinkering on my consciousness ever since Flitz died, finally breaking into my thoughts.

 _C'mon, Mari,_  I told myself.  _Pull the trigger. He killed Flitz!_

"Please," Wes was crying now, too. "I'm going to be a father, Mari."

"He could've been one, too," I replied. "You took that from him. You took  _everything_ from him! From me!"

 _Just pull the trigger!_  I yelled at myself. _Do it, Mari! He deserves it!_

Wes must've realized that he wasn't going to get out of this. With one kick to my shins, I fell. My gun flew out of my hands.

I got over my shock quickly as he tried to pin me down. I kneed him in the groin, and rolled on top of him. I started repeatedly punching him in the face, my anger returning. I wanted him to suffer, to feel the pain Flitz had, that I still do. My knuckles started to bleed, running down my arm. I didn't care.

Suddenly, he headbutted me, and used my second of shock to flip me over. He pinned me down, shoving his knees onto my arms. I tried to struggle, but he was too strong and heavy, and I couldn't get him off of me. I started screaming, until he wrapped his hands around my throat, and began to squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Mari," Tears started pouring from his eyes, mixing in with his blood. "I'm so sorry. But I'm going to be a _father._  We both know how hard it is to grow up without a father. I can't let that happen to my child. I can't!"

I couldn't respond as I grabbed and pulled on his hands, trying to get them off my throat to no avail. His face was bleeding from my punches, and his blood dripped onto my face.

 Was this how I was going to die? At the hands of my old partner, the same man who'd killed the man I loved?

My lungs painfully tried to fill with air, to no avail. My vision started to go black as Wes cried, whispering  _I'm sorry_ over and over again. I tried to focus on the rain, pelting on my body, as my life slipped away from me.

 _Who are you sorry for, Wes?_ I thought deliriously, due to the lack of oxygen to my brain.  _Flitz or me?_

I closed my eyes. As my consciousness slowly faded, all I could think about was Boze. Her face, her smile, how her lips had felt against mine and how her hands had felt on my body. Hopefully, she'd find someone else, someone who's better than I was.

I heard a noise. I felt like it was loud, but I couldn't really tell. 

Suddenly, air filled my lungs as the hands on my throat loosened, and my consciousness started coming back. I opened my eyes, and the black started clearing from my vision. Wes crumpled on top of me, and I could feel the warmness and stickiness of blood pour onto my skin.

I gasped for air, too weak to push him off me. Someone else did, pushing him onto his back. I followed him with my eyes, and saw a hole in his head, right through the middle of his eyes. Blood covered his face, and his eyes were glassy. He was dead; there was no doubt about that.

"Mari!" A panicked voice screamed. "Mari! Mari, talk to me!"

I groggily turned my head, and saw Boze, who was viciously shaking me. I cupped her face with my hand, and she started crying in relief. I looked over at Wes' corpse, and I started sobbing. She hugged me, making me sit upright.

She held me, whispering meaningless reassurances that somehow made me feel better in my ear as she stroked my hair. I wrapped my hands around her waist and buried my face in her shoulder. Rain pelted us, though we were both already soaked.

I thought about Flitz, and Wes, and all the good memories we'd shared. I thought about David, and his warning. I thought about Flitz's corpse, lying on the ground of that Saloon next to the one of a man he'd just met. And Wes', which was lying right next to me.

I couldn't stop sobbing.

 


	9. •Nine•

We stayed there for awhile.

Eventually, I ran out of tears. I untangled myself from Boze's arms, and we both wordlessly made our way to our horses. We needed to leave, before Wes' wife woke up. I was surprised she hadn't already.

The rain was starting to stop, and the sun was coming out. By the time we reached the Saloon, there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

Shayne and his men were gone, and only Matt remained. He didn't say anything, just stared. I could only imagine how horrible I looked, covered in dirt and blood with puffy red eyes. I rushed up to our room, and Boze didn't follow me.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Sure enough, I looked horrible. I was used to being dirty, but I needed to get Wes' blood off of me.

I walked out of my room, and down the stairs. "I'm going to the bathhouse."

"Okay," Boze replied, sitting at a table.

I climbed back on my horse and rode to the bathhouse. I tied her up outside, walked in, and paid the fee. The reception woman gave me an odd look, but didn't ask about the blood.

I walked over to the woman's section and stripped down, before climbing into the hot water. I instantly grabbed the scrubbing brush and soap, and started cleaning myself. Once I was sure I had gotten it all off, I dried myself and went back to the Saloon.

I sat down at the table Boze was sitting at. She extinguished her cigarette and looked at me, waiting for me to say something, to tell her what we were going to do next. I was the leader, after all. And I knew exactly where we should go.

"Do you want to go to your hometown?" I asked her. "And kill those white bastards?"

She smiled. "I'd like that very much."

• • •

We were getting ready to go. The horses were packed, and we were saying goodbye to Matt.

"I'll see you soon," I promised him.

"Try not to die," He instructed me.

"Don't worry," I smiled. "I have Boze. I'm immortal with her at my side."

He laughed, and we hugged. Boze gave him an awkward handshake. Then we climbed on our horses, and we were off.

We rode for a long time. Boze knew the directions, and I followed her lead. Eventually, nighttime came, and we had to stop.

We pulled off the road, to a secluded spot behind a small hill where we couldn't be seen from the road. We tied up our horses to two old trees, and set up our tent. We ate some salted beef for dinner.

I watched her eat. She was so beautiful, her face lit up by the flickering light of our small lantern. I didn't know exactly what I felt for her yet, but whatever it was, I enjoyed it.

She noticed me looking at her, and leaned over to kiss me. I happily let her, kneading my hands into her luscious brown hair. She tasted like the beef, but I didn't care.

The harbored sadness and anger I'd felt since Flitz died had died with Wes. Now, all I could feel was excitement, excitement for all my future journeys and jobs. Because I'd have her by my side, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

** The End **


End file.
